


Flickers

by lionofwrath



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Blood, Captivity, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Gang Rape, Hopeful Ending, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Manipulation, Pain, Panic Attacks, Past Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, Wesker/Others, injuries, minor comfort at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 09:13:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17322173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionofwrath/pseuds/lionofwrath
Summary: Wesker is abused while a prisoner of the BSAA.





	Flickers

**Author's Note:**

> This is exactly what the summary and the tags state.  
> Dedicated to some friends I won't call out, you know who you are <3

The first few days were spent in isolation while they monitored the effectiveness of the drug they’d devised to suppress his abilities. He didn’t mind being alone, it gave him time to think, and to plan an escape.

The next few days were when the beatings started, but he wasn’t a stranger to those either. The men were tentative at first, still scared of him despite how weakened he was, but it didn’t take them long to figure out that he couldn’t fight all four of them.

Albert prodded his newly split lip with his tongue, sighing as it continued to bleed. His healing was just as inhibited as the rest of his abilities, not down to the level of a normal human’s, but enough that after three days of beatings, he wasn’t in very good shape. He pressed his back against the wall, letting the chill ease some of the soreness. They were good at their jobs, targeting specific places to cause him the most pain, or at least they had been at the beginning. Now they seemed to be more interested in just hurting him as much as possible.

Still, he’d informed them that he would only talk to Chris and if they thought hitting him was going to make him tell them anything they would be disappointed. He hadn’t actually decided if he was going to give Chris any information either, mostly he just wanted to see him again, to kiss him or spit blood in his face, or maybe both.

Albert sighed again, wincing as his broken ribs protested the movement. Maybe he’d just punch Chris first. The bastard didn’t have to arrest him, they’d been working together, and even if it had only been a temporary alliance of convenience, Albert had enjoyed it. Chris had too, or so he’d thought, right up until Chris had betrayed, drugged, and arrested him. It wasn’t the first betrayal between them, and turnabout’s fair play as the saying went, but that didn’t mean that Albert had to accept it.

And he really had enjoyed working closely with Chris again, the twisted mess of love and hate they felt for each other had even seemed to soften, and for a moment he’d thought… No. He shook his head in a sharp motion that made it ache more to banish the idea. Not here, not yet. When he could confront Chris again he’d deal with his feelings, but for now he needed to focus on escaping and conserving his limited energy.

 

He raised his head but didn’t bother to stand when they entered, repeating his demand. ‘I will only talk to Chris Redfield.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ One of the men waved his hand dismissively. ‘We know.’

But the leader gave him an oddly sly smile. ‘Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you.’

Albert blinked at the unexpected response, suddenly wary that they were bothering to reply.

There was something he didn’t like in the leader’s eyes, something familiar that made his skin crawl and his heart pound in remembered fear. ‘Didn’t think of that, did ya? That he ordered us to come down here and…’ Those cruel eyes drifted over Albert’s half-naked body. ‘Tame you.’

He was already uselessly trying to get away, pulling on his chains as if this time he could rip them out of the wall. Someone grabbed his hair and he clawed at their arm, forgetting his defensive training in his blind panic. More hands grabbed him, tearing the few clothes he was wearing off and pinning him down. His breathing was so shallow he was dizzy, desperately trying to scream no while a detached part of his mind coldly noted that it wouldn’t stop them.

The fingers tangled in his hair yanked his head backwards. Albert’s vision was swimming so much he couldn’t even make out the man’s face but the words were horrifyingly clear. ‘Don’t worry slut, Chris’ll fuck you after we’re done with your sweet ass.’

His head smacked into the floor, dazing him. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, the metallic taste of his own blood filling his mouth only a minor distraction. There were hands on his wrists, his shoulders, hands pulling his legs apart, fingers… he bit his lip harder to stifle his whimpers. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of hearing his pain or fear.

The concrete was cold under his chest and stomach, their hands uncomfortably warm against his skin. They were speaking to him in mocking voices but he couldn’t make sense of the words. The fingers shoved into him roughly slicked him with his own blood, a thin line running down his inner thigh. He braced himself as his hips were gripped bruisingly, sickeningly aware of just how much worse this was going to get. And then the man was inside him, tearing him open, and he couldn’t think, could barely breathe. All he could hear was the sound of their laughter, their grunts of pleasure, the wet noise that accompanied each fresh burst of pain.

The man finally withdrew, a fresh rush of come and blood soaking Albert’s thighs. Something liquid hit his lower back, someone smearing it into his skin as if they were marking him. Another pair of hands grabbed his hips, jerking him viciously backwards to fuck him. He drifted in and out of consciousness as they took turns, trying to find a place in his mind where he could retreat from what was happening to his body.

Finally they left him alone, he was dimly aware of the door opening and closing, the click of the lock. His body was a solid mass of pain but he rolled over onto his side anyway. He curled up a bit as if he could protect himself, as if it would help him feel less vulnerable. Less violated. It was familiar, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. And it hurt so much. His forearms were patterned with bruises and he closed his eyes, swallowing back the urge to throw up. Albert reached a trembling hand between his legs, trying to wipe himself clean of blood and come but it was pointless. He wanted a shower, he wanted their filth off him, he wanted none of this to be happening, and he almost screamed in a sudden hysteria.

Breathing was impossible, his heart racing, his vision blurring and it took everything he had left to simply try to get air. Each shallow sob was a bit easier and when he could finally take as full a breath as he could manage with broken ribs, he’d calmed himself down slightly. Panicking wouldn’t get him out of here or make them stop. He rubbed at his skin, trying to get as much of their stench off him as he could. It would be better to try to rest since they would return… he forced his thoughts away from that.

Focus, Albert ordered himself, he needed to think on the things they’d said about Chris. He didn’t believe them. Chris hated him, or had hated him, but Chris would never allow this to happen, let alone encourage it. That was part of what drew him to Chris, how frustratingly, ridiculously, good he was. But Chris had brought him here, would surely be keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn’t escape… No, he wouldn’t allow himself to consider it, they were lying to him, hoping he’d break under their pathetic manipulations. He wasn’t going to. The pain only strengthened his resolve to fight back. His old survival instincts shouted at him that he was being stupid, that he was going to be hurt worse, that he should just give in… but he wasn’t that child anymore and this wasn’t the same situation. He shoved those memories back where they belonged, firmly in the past, he was in enough physical pain without remembering more.

Albert tried to make himself comfortable on the hard floor, pressing himself into the corner furthest from the door. He tried to ignore the pain, and the creeping despair, and eventually he was able to sleep.

 

They woke him up by spraying him with cold water. He shrieked at the shock, covering his face with his arms to protect his eyes. The hard jet pounded into his aching wounds, his muscles seizing up under the cold, but he was grateful to feel clean again even if it was only temporary. Albert glared at them when they were done hosing him off, remaining where he was crouched until they’d put his food down and left. It wasn’t much but it was enough to keep him alive if not particularly healthy. Judging by what else they were doing to him he wasn’t sure if that was of any concern to them anymore.

 

His torturers arrived later and despite his injuries he fought them harder this time. He planted his foot in one man’s stomach, knocking him backwards into another. A third tried to punch him and he dodged, tearing a chunk out of the man’s arm with his teeth.

The man screamed as he lurched away, the others withdrawing at his cries. ‘Fucking bitch bit me! Fucking-’

‘Calm down.’ The leader grabbed his arm to look at it.

Albert gave them all a bloody smirk as he spat the piece of flesh onto the floor. They stepped back further, obviously nervous.

‘Get up to medical.’ The leader ordered, turning to stare at Albert after his man had gone. ‘You’re gonna regret that.’

‘I’m going to kill you.’ He snarled, narrowing his eyes at them.

‘Big words for someone stuck in a cell.’ The man gave an irritating, grating laugh and his lackeys joined in quickly.

‘I won’t be stuck here forever.’ Albert threatened, hiding his growing uneasiness behind aggression. Maybe he had made a mistake in attacking them, the brief victory not worth the pain they would inflict in return. The leader made a small motion with his hand and they came at him again. He landed a few hits but they were prepared this time and he was too weak. They trapped him on his back, one of them kneeling on him to keep him down. The damage they’d done last time hadn’t healed yet and he was already in pain, his breathing rough. It didn't stop him from glaring at them.

‘You look good with these bruises.’ The leader dug his fingers into his hip.

Albert jerked, gasping softly as the man pressed harder.

‘Chris’ll like them too.’

He was lying, Albert reminded himself, whatever they said about Chris wasn’t true.

‘Now, I can’t have you biting my men.’

The boot smashed into Albert’s face. His teeth cracked, the edges tearing through his cheeks. Another blow and he was gagging on blood. Someone grabbed his hair, pulling him onto his hands and knees. He drooled blood onto the floor, only realising his jaw was broken as he tried to move it.

‘That’s better. Shut you up too.’ A hand groped him and he tried to pull away, other hands holding him still. ‘Stay there, be a good boy.’ Good boy, another hated voice echoed in Albert’s head. He froze, panic overwhelming him.

More pain, rough fingers pushing into him, tearing him open again. Fingers wound into his hair, dragging his head up and he closed his eyes as a cock slid past his lips, pressed into his mouth. Part of him screamed in rage, demanding he fight back but the other part was winning, the scared, abused victim who knew that not resisting was better.

‘Good boy.’ Someone murmured again. ‘You like this, don’t you?’ The fingers in Albert’s hair tightened, jerking him forwards to choke as the man came down his throat. Automatically he tried to swallow, the pain in his jaw and his own self-disgust making his eyes sting with tears. His hair was released and he let his head drop to the ground, resting his forehead against the cold concrete, not even caring that the position made it easier for them to rape him. They didn’t use his mouth again, fucking him from behind instead, brutal thrusts that shoved him into the floor.

When they finally finished he just slumped over. He’d thought he could take this, that he’d be able to cope with it this time… but he’d been wrong. Albert didn’t even have the strength to curl up, lying where they’d left him until he passed out.

 

Albert stared blankly at the wall of his cell. He’d practically memorised it by now, there wasn’t much to look at, but he needed the distraction. His torturers would be here soon. He wasn’t sure how many times they’d raped him, he had no way of keeping track of days and the abuse blended together in a way even boredom didn’t. He’d stopped resisting though, it was a waste of what little strength he had left and he still clung to a fading hope of escape. Let them believe they’d won, that they’d broken him. All Albert needed was for them to make one error, to assume he was just slightly more helpless than he appeared to be, and he would kill them. He swore to himself that he would kill them. But until then he had to cope with their abuse, and the constant pain they left him in.

 

‘Well, look who it is.’ His head was roughly pulled up as the man spoke.

Another man was approaching him, tall, muscular… ‘Chris?’ Albert mumbled. One of his eyes was swollen shut from the beatings, blood running into the other and the dark haired man’s features were indistinct in the bright room… but he could have been Chris.

‘Yep, the captain couldn’t wait any longer to fuck your ass.’

It couldn’t be, Albert tried to focus but he couldn’t see well enough, and then as the man got closer he could smell him. Beneath the stench of his own blood and sweat and the rank odour of come was the unmistakable smell of Chris.

‘No.’ He protested, the recognition making him struggle weakly. They’d been lying about Chris, they had to have been. A hand stroked down his back, digging into his ass, Chris’ scent filling his nose. Albert had fantasised about sex with Chris, what it would feel like to have Chris inside him, kissing him, pleasuring him. But that hadn’t been real. This was reality, and this was how Chris was going to fuck him. Chained to the wall of a cell, bleeding from being beaten and gang raped, warm come running down his legs. This was what Chris wanted.

‘Chris?’ He pleaded again as hands settled on his bruised hips. The hard cock pushing into him denied him any hope that this wasn’t happening. One of the hands slid down between Albert’s legs, closing roughly around his cock. ‘No.’ The word was a harsh sob. They hadn’t touched him like this yet, but the memories were seared into his mind. Good boy. He didn’t know if the voice was only in his head or not. Fingers slipped teasingly along his cock in time with brutal thrusts, his abused body trapped between growing arousal and continued pain. It felt like it went on forever, the agony holding him back from the edge while the pleasure drove him towards it.

Albert cried out when he came, shuddering through his unwilling orgasm, feeling something break in his mind as thoroughly as they’d broken his body. He just lay there afterwards as they kept fucking his overstimulated body, barely able to feel it. Chris had raped him and there was no way for even pain to reach him anymore.

 

He didn’t fight or protest the next time, still trapped in a numb haze, and he blacked out mercifully quickly, his abused body pushed past his limits.

 

When Albert woke up he was somewhere else. He’d thought he was past caring anymore, but the scent of clean sheets, the feel of a soft bed, the lessening of pain… It scared him more than the bare cell. Fear gave him a surge of unexpected strength. He listened carefully, trying to detect a trace of anyone else in the room before he revealed he was awake. There could be cameras, but like in the cell he couldn’t be sure and he opened his eyes.

He was in a small room but this one was sparsely furnished, a desk seemed to be attached to the far wall as well as the bed he was on. Carefully, Albert glanced around, wanting to see without aggravating his injuries. Two doors, one open and dark inside, he guessed it was a bathroom, the other closed and likely locked. There were bandages around his wrists and he pulled up the thin shirt he was wearing to find more. All his wounds seemed to have been tended to, his searching fingers tracing the regular line of stitches under a gauze pad closing the deep gash in his shoulder. He lay back down on his side and closed his eyes at the sudden dizzy spell, trying not to vomit.

They wanted him alive. No, Chris wanted him alive. He shouldn’t have thought of the man. Albert wrapped his arms around his chest as he started to shake, his bruises aching as he remembered. Chris’ body over his, Chris’ hands on him. He wondered how much time he’d be given to heal before the abuse started again… the thought diverted his rising terror. If he had enough time to regain his strength he might still have a possibility of escape. He clung to the slim hope because it was better than losing himself completely.

 

The door opened long enough after he’d woken that it was impossible to tell if they were watching him or not. He only had a moment for the thought to pass through his head before a tall, muscular, dark-haired man walked in. Chris. Albert flinched, panic already setting in, feeling like he was going to pass out as Chris got closer. His pulse was so loud in his ears that he barely heard his own faint whimper but Chris stopped moving.

‘Hey, it’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you.’

It sounded true but he knew it was a lie. He shook his head in a mute argument.

‘Wesker- Albert.’

As if switching to his first name made a difference.

‘I know… what they did to you.’

‘You mean what you did to me.’ Albert didn’t know where the spark of defiance had come from but the anger cleared his head.

Chris scrubbed a hand through his hair nervously. He seemed so normal, so… Chris, but the sick panic that Albert felt every time he looked at him reminded him of the truth. ‘What I… yeah, I guess that’s fair.’ Fair? Chris didn’t need to give him permission to blame him but his rage turned to cold fear as Chris continued speaking. ‘How’re you feeling?’

‘No.’ Albert whispered, he’d thought he’d have some time… ‘I’m not…’

‘It’s ok. You’re safe.’ The words were the opposite of soothing.

His breathing sped up again as he tried to press himself into the wall. Instead, he fell off the bed with an impact that jarred his injuries, and left him panting harshly. Chris’ feet came closer and he cringed away.

‘Albert?’ A hand reached out to him.

He closed his eyes, waiting to feel fingers slipping under his clothes, between his legs.

But Chris didn’t touch him, his voice so strangely soft and gentle. ‘God, Albert, I’m not going to…’

And then there was the sound of footsteps heading away from him, the door shutting with a quiet click.

It was too much for Albert to handle even though Chris hadn’t actually touched him. He doubted they’d given him any privacy here but he stumbled towards the bathroom anyway. The shower was too hot and he shouldn’t be getting his bandages wet but at least the water would conceal his tears from them. Albert pressed a trembling hand against the wall to hold himself up, a single ragged sob escaping him before he slid down onto his knees and just cried, feeling like a terrified, powerless child again.

It drained him completely, each gasping breath exhausting him more until he simply didn’t have the energy to keep crying. He stayed on his knees, shivering as the water went cold. All he wanted was to lie down right there and sleep. There was an escape he should be planning, questions he should be asking about why Chris would do this to him, but he was too tired to think, almost too tired to keep breathing. He needed rest, and he half-crawled out of the shower, putting his clothes back on while still wet.

The sight of the bed made him panic again. He couldn’t sleep there, not when he knew the door would open in the middle of the night, his covers pushed aside… Albert squeezed his eyes shut, begging the memories to stop. He used the last of his failing strength to tear the sheets off the bed, huddling up into a pile on the floor. The sheets were soft and welcoming against his battered body and it had been so long since he’d slept comfortably… Albert had barely tucked his face into the pillow before he was asleep.

 

Getting a decent night’s rest had restored some of his equilibrium, and his determination to escape. He took another shower, this time being more cautious with his bandages. Some were still damp from last night and he peeled them off carefully to dry the skin under them. The wounds were red and raw, but healing, the stitches still intact.

Reluctantly, Albert’s gaze drifted to the small mirror. Mottled bruises formed a stark contrast to his pale skin, but the cuts above his eye and on his cheekbone had been taped shut. His hair was a mess, his lip raw and swollen where he kept biting it… but his eyes were the worst part, so dull and lifeless that he barely recognised himself. Broken. He tightened his fingers on the edge of the sink until they ached. Once, the porcelain would have cracked under his grip without effort, now his bones would snap before the sink did. Worthless. Albert swayed as he closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. He couldn’t think like that, he still had a chance to get out of here, he just had to be ready when it came.

Chris was waiting for him in the other room. The shock destroyed his brief moment of resolve and he froze as fear took over.

‘Albert. I-’ Chris put the tray he was holding on the desk, backing up to the door. ‘I thought you might be hungry.’

He glanced at the food, a simple meal of bread, soup, and fruit, the enticing smell making his stomach growl. It was the most delicious thing he’d seen since the beginning of his captivity. But Chris wasn’t leaving and terror kept him pinned in place.

‘I’ll come back later.’ Chris vanished out the door.

Albert managed to start breathing again when he was alone, unconsciously dashing towards the food. He took it to the bed to eat, there was no other seating and the mattress was soft enough that after some fidgeting he was able to find a comfortable way to sit. The meal tasted just as good as it smelled, the normal routine of eating calming him as well as restoring his energy.

When he was finished he flipped the tray over in his hands, wondering if he could use it as a weapon. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem sturdy enough, and it was unwieldy as he tried a few swipes through the air. He tossed it back on the desk in a loud clatter, sighing heavily. Chris had promised to return. Albert put his head in his hands, fighting against the fresh wave of exhaustion. He was going to be raped again and there was nothing he could do to prevent it, just as helpless as he’d been when he was young.

A tentative knock on the door made him look up at it curiously. It opened a crack and Chris’ voice drifted through. ‘Albert? Can I come in?’

The question didn’t make sense. ‘Do what you want.’ You will anyway, Albert added silently.

Chris stepped through the door and closed it but stayed just inside the room. That was more than close enough for Albert to tense, digging his fingers into the mattress under him. ‘You’re scared of me.’ Chris sounded so utterly baffled that it was almost funny.

Albert couldn’t laugh. He stared at Chris’ stationary feet and fervently hoped he wouldn’t come closer.

‘I know that they… raped you. And I know that you blame me for that, and maybe you’re right.’ Chris shuffled his feet, sighing in a loud huff. ‘I should have paid more attention, figured it out sooner… I guess I was just hoping that I could forget you.’

It was Albert’s turn to be completely confused. None of what Chris was saying made any sense, his attempt to puzzle out meaning sidetracking his fear.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that… Shit. Albert, I’m sorry.’

Warily, he glanced up at Chris’ face, at the open, honest expression of grief. Apologies could be just as false as any other words, but looking at Chris now Albert would never believe him capable of what he knew he’d done.

‘I’m so sorry that you were hurt, that I didn’t stop them, shit, I’m sorry that I arrested you at all.’ Chris shook his head. ‘I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.’

Albert didn’t know how to respond, Chris was manipulating him or lying in some way, but he couldn’t see it. ‘What do you expect me to say?’

‘I don’t know.’ Chris’ shoulders slumped. ‘I just needed to tell you. I don’t want you to be scared of me, or think that I’ll hurt you.’

Be a good boy and this won’t hurt. Albert sank his teeth into his lower lip, hysteria making him want to scream.

‘Albert?’ Chris was suddenly next to him.

He couldn’t breathe without smelling Chris, couldn’t get enough air at all. He was on his back in a bed, a man on top of him, his vision blurring as his head spun.

‘Breathe, Albert.’ A voice in his ear commanded. ‘In… and out.’

The voice kept reciting the words slowly and he struggled to match them, becoming more aware as his breathing steadied. He was lying on his back in a bed but there wasn’t anyone on top of him.

Chris was kneeling beside the bed, murmuring in his ear, the only physical contact between them Chris’ fingers pressed to the pulse point in his wrist. ‘In… and out.’

Albert took another deep, shuddering breath.

‘That’s it, nice and easy. You ok?’

‘Yeah.’ He sat up a bit too quickly, resting against the wall as he just stared at Chris uncomprehendingly.

Chris stared back, frowning. ‘Albert… I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through, but I promise that you’re safe. I get that you don’t trust me, but it’s true.’ His hand was still looped lightly around Albert’s wrist. It would take so little effort for Chris to tighten his grip. Albert was exhausted, mentally and physically, unable to understand why Chris bothered to help him through a panic attack, and he simply wanted this to be over so he could sleep. And then Chris stood up, trailing his fingers across Albert’s hand before withdrawing. ‘I’m gonna let you get some rest. I’ll come by tomorrow, ok?’

He blinked in astonishment as Chris left.

 

Albert took another shower since he had the luxury of being able to. Instead of dwelling on his injuries he thought about Chris. For the first time since he’d been raped by Chris he was beginning to once again doubt that it had actually been him. Chris’ current behaviour was too at odds with what had happened, he didn’t seem like a monster, he just seemed like Chris. Albert tried to approach it logically, considering the evidence. It was difficult to maintain an emotional distance from the event but framing it as a simple scientific problem helped. After several minutes of consideration he didn’t have a definitive conclusion one way or the other. The only thing he could be positive about was that the man had smelled like Chris, or, more accurately, his clothes had. Clothes that could’ve been worn by someone else. Albert desperately wanted to believe that. The Chris he knew, the one that he could admit to himself he might be falling in love with again, wasn’t capable of being that cruel.

 

The knock on his door was sharp and loud. ‘Albert?’ Chris sounded furious but he didn’t enter uninvited, hovering just outside.

‘Come in.’ He braced himself for the usual flood of panic.

Chris looked furious too, his fists clenching, shifting restlessly in front of the door. He didn’t get any closer though, and oddly his open display of anger didn’t add to Albert’s fear. ‘Those fucking bastards. They finally confessed what they did, those fucking… It wasn’t me. I’ll swear to you on anything you want, it wasn’t me.’ Chris’ visible distress and fervent denial felt like confirmation of his own reasoning.

‘Yeah, I know.’

Chris stopped his tirade mid-sentence. ‘You… what?’

It was almost comical and Albert gave him a faint smile. ‘I’ve had some time to think on it and it’s far more probable that they were simply lying about you being there.’

‘They were. I wouldn’t hurt you like that, Al, I swear.’ He’d stepped forwards in his eagerness.

Albert tensed, edging back a bit, intellectually he knew he shouldn't be afraid anymore but his body remembered the pain.

‘Sorry.’ Hastily, Chris stepped back again. ‘Al, I… I want to help you. If you’ll let me.’

‘So you can assuage your guilt?’ He snapped back, enraged at the idea of being a charity case.

‘No! Because I still…’ Love you. The sentiment was obvious even though it remained unsaid, Chris’ eyes filled with a deep affection that Albert somehow knew was reserved only for him. Chris cleared his throat awkwardly, his tone forced casual. ‘I really liked working with you. Before this. I thought… maybe when you’re feeling better, we could try that again?’

He understood the intention behind the words, what Chris was offering him. Albert felt a smile tug at his lips as he nodded, and a slow grin spread across Chris’ face.


End file.
